A good day for a race

The prefecta entered my room with three students that I hadn't permitted to enter class. She never does that. I was annoyed. "Qué pasa...?" I started blubbering. "All the students have to be in a classroom" she replied as her eyes widened "the police are here". I looked out of the classroom to see a police pick up truck, a couple of machine gun wielding cops wearing bullet proof vests and combat boots leading drug dogs on leashes. I let the kids in.

When the bell rang, I looked out, did not see the police truck and allowed my students to exit. Another prefecto herded the kids back in the classroom and I went to the room next door to teach my next class. The other teacher was still in there. I told her that someone was with the other group and started teaching my class. She went next door only to return and announced "They're alone. No one is with them. You have to go back". I didn't want to go back. They are my worst group. One hour was enough.

Everyone says the electronics students are the worst. One of the kids from that group told me that he would make me cry. Not bloody likely, but I can't say that I look forward to teaching them. Oddly, they have started to stalk me. The best group I have is in the classroom next door to theirs, late in the evenings while teaching the good group the dreaded electronics group has taken to scaling the wall and peering in the windows, smiling and waving. They actually look happy to see me. When I pass through the courtyard below their classroom, they all scream "Hilary!", waving and smiling like maniacs. Worse, they do it when I enter the teacher's bathroom that faces the classrooms. Not the best placement idea.

I returned to the electronics group. I sat around and chatted with the students I like until the police arrived at our door. "Empty your bags on the tables, pull out all cell phones and electronics and place your book bags on the floor". They kids immediately started pulling our wires, motors and various bomb like devices; they are electronics students. A heavily armed cop guided a German Shepard up and down the aisles, furtively sniffing book bags. The students seemed to think this was pretty normal.

After losing a couple of classes due to the drug raid, we had the day off on Monday for Día de la Raza. After a relatively smooth Tuesday, they decided that we would take another day off on Wednesday so that the students could have a foot race through the streets of Tijuana. Walking through TJ is like playing chicken. No lines on the roads, four way intersections without stop signs or street lights, cars that accelerate at the sight of pedestrians. I decided to attend the race.

Crowds of students stood at the starting point. Many wore parts of their school uniform, sweat pants and shoes highly unsuitable for running. Electricity for the booming speakers was provided by a neighbor who ran a power cord through a window of his house. As the race was about to start, the principal announced that they had decided to call the police to close off the streets in the route. Not a bad idea. I was herded into the back of a pick up truck with a group of teachers in order to film the race. When the race began, the students shot out of the gate, leaving us screaming and pounding on the truck to drive, drive, DRIVE, as students dove and swerved around the truck. We tore off and followed the students as they raced through traffic, dodging passing cars and police officers. One raced with a chihuahua. A gas truck pulled through the finish line and drove through oncoming students sprinting to the finish. No one was hurt. As I rode in the truck I could hear the various sounds of Tijuana: car horns, police sirens, the chimes of the gas truck, the screams of the students. It actually did seem like a good day for a race.